


Help me say goodbye

by LazyButSmexy



Series: I got inspired after watching IT [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, I made myself sad writing this so you must suffer too, Illness, Romance, Sad, Slow Death, blood mention, corpse mention, only sad, there's no horror in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyButSmexy/pseuds/LazyButSmexy
Summary: It's been 13 years since Pennywise went back to his slumber,14 years until he wakes up, and (Y/N) won't live to that day.





	Help me say goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd be writing a sad fanfiction for an alien clown serial killer.
> 
> Life can prove us wrong in so many ways, lol.

 

The news had hit her like a truck at full-speed. To learn that her body wouldn’t make it past the next 14 years made her heart crumble to pieces. The doctor told her the illness was developing too fast, they had seen nothing like that before. Medicine wouldn’t help much. She was beyond saving.

The walk back to her tiny apartment felt surreal. Her pace was slow, her body moved by simple muscle memory. The noises of the world were numbed to her, the happy laughter of the children felt foreign and distant. Summer used to be one enjoyable to her, even during these 13 years she’s spent alone.

(Y/N) walked into the building and climbed up all the flights of stairs, stopping at every chance she could to wheeze and pant. ‘ _Your lungs would be the first ones to give up, they’re the most affected_ ’, had said the doctor, and she could feel it happening. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and she entered through her door. She sat down on the bed and reminisced in her happy memory place, searching for thoughts she could hold onto for strength. Eventually she found some, with that devilish smirk plastered in all of them.

“Pennywise.” Her voice broke, and more tears rolled down. 14 years would pass before he woke from his slumber, and by then, it would be too late. Her body wasn’t expected to make it to next month. So she made up her mind and stood up, taking a piece of paper and a pen, and sat on the dinner table to write down her thoughts.

“ _My dear, loving Pennywise…_ ” Some tears rolled down free and splashed on the paper, smothering the ink a little. She didn’t bother cleaning them up, or even stopping them. Her scent would stay with them in that letter; maybe that would give him some comfort when the time came to learn the truth. It was a bittersweet thought, but as (Y/N) didn’t like the idea of dying alone, neither would she want him to think she abandoned him. She wanted him to know that she thought about him until the end.

After she poured down her feelings in the piece of paper, (Y/N) had an idea, and got her sewing kit, extracting a needle from inside. She punctured her index, blood drawing out, and she delicately used it to draw a small heart, next to the final “ _I love you_ ” she had written.

Satisfied, she folded the letter and rose from her chair. There was no point on waiting now. She put the letter in her pocket, walked out and locked the door. Climbing down the stairs was easier, somehow, and when she passed past the front desk, she left the keys there. She wouldn’t return.

The walk to the sewers entrance made her feel lightheaded, but the letter in her pocket gave her strength, and she finally arrived at her destination. She looked up at the sun one last time, and entered the tunnels with determination.

It took her hours of roaming around the tunnels – it could have been a labyrinth for anyone else, but she has done this expedition more than once in the past – and she finally found who she was looking for. Pennywise, the dancing clown was fast asleep on top of a pile of wood, old mattresses and debris. (Y/N) coughed up, breathless, but the monster didn’t even stir. Her heart broke a little more, knowing she would never again hear him say her name, or laugh. She would never see his strange, breathtaking eyes again, and it made her sad.

She walked up to him, and quietly climbed the pile, setting down next to him. His breath was hot and heavy on her face, but she didn’t mind. She took the letter from her pocket and secured it in her hand, watching him sleep for hours.

 

It was only when she woke up that she realized she had dozed off. Pennywise, of course, was still asleep. How many days would pass until the final eventually came? She shrugged it off and stared into his face, every single feature she had memorized during that year, when she met him and spent her days with him.

 

She felt hungry, but had no desire to leave from his side. Three days had passed since her arrival and nothing had changed. Pennywise grunted in his sleep and settled down again. She smiled softly and tangled her fingers with his gloved ones.

 

She didn’t have the strength to open her eyes. Without food or water, or even moving from his side, the illness had spread much easier, she could feel it. Every breathe she took, burned her lungs and larynx. The pain was becoming unbearable, and tears rolled freely down her face. She stroked Pennywise’s fingers and focused in him. Eventually, she fell asleep again. Only that now, she wouldn’t wake up.

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty seven years have passed since he went to sleep, and Pennywise slowly rose from his slumber. What woke him in a slight shock, though, was the corpse lying next to him, one hand gripping his, and the other clutching a yellow-ish paper. It was the scent, though, that made his insides churn. Looking more closely, he recognized (Y/N)’s favorite t-shirt – one that had his face drawn in a cartoon style.

Swallowing hard, he realized what had happened. (Y/N) died while he was asleep; and she came all the way here to die by his side. His insides were burning with an unfamiliar emotion, probably what humans call ‘grief’, or maybe it was ‘sadness’. Those concepts were quite strange to him, but he didn’t have any more thoughts about that. It hurt, though; it burnt like fire in his chest and felt heavy in his gut.

He delicately took the paper from her hands, the fingers stayed like rocks, curled up for eternity. Pennywise opened the letter, which was filled with her scent like the sweetest of perfumes to him, and his grief became even stronger with each line he read.

 

“ _My dear, loving Pennywise_

_I am sick. This illness is consuming my body much faster than anyone could’ve predicted._

_Have I known that something like this would happen; I would have told you how much I loved you._

_You know of my fears, but one fear I never thought about, was the fear of dying alone. So forgive me if it bothers you, I’ll lay down by your side until I fall asleep. I promise I won’t disturb you as you sleep, I will only take your hand, maybe._

_All my memories with you are the happiest (and creepiest) I’ve had, and wouldn’t trade them for the world._

_Goodnight._

_I love you. (Y/N)_ ”

 

 

That day, and for the rest of the year, the inhabitants of Derry would feel how the atmosphere of the town felt much heavier and thickest than ever. Some fans of the supernatural would even swear that whenever they passed the sewers, and if they were very quiet, they could hear a strange, guttural sob in the darkness.


End file.
